


I Looked With All My Eyes

by Catchclaw



Series: We Can Make The World Stop [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, POV First Person, apology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief reflection from Castiel on why angels aren't familiar with apologies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Looked With All My Eyes

The sound of seals breaking is the sound of doors slamming. One by one by one, one after the other in rapid succession until it is like the sound of thunder in my ears, a low heavy rumble that does not stop.

The end is coming.

An end.

And I am not certain how I feel about it, this end.

The human notion of an "apology"--it is not one with which I have much familiarity. Certainly, we hear apologies from humans, particularly in their darkest hour, as they would say. As they near the end of their lives, if they know that such an end is coming.

They do not apologize to us, per say, but to our Father. Once, we were close enough to Him to have their words brush right past our ears, an anxious bullet whisper on its way to Him.

That was a long time ago.

As such, there are many of you--those who have not spent a great deal of time, on Earth--who have not had a chance to hear an "apology."

I suggest that you make time to do so, now. They are worth observing, for they contain words that you will never say to your brothers or your sisters, that you will never hear them say to you.

I am sorry.

I apologize.

I did not mean to hurt you.

And so on.

These are words we do not say, ideas that we have no need to express. For we do in our Father's name, and that is enough. There is no need to apologize when what you have done--what He would have bid you to do, once--is right. Is just.

These are words that I do not say.

That I have no need to express.

That said.

An end is coming and there is little that I can do to stop it. That anyone can do. Even them. Even him.

Sometimes I wonder if I am sorry to see it come.

Angels do not dream, and yet I dream of him.

How can that be so?

In the moment, it feels real; he feels real, wicked skin and bone beneath my hands, against my mouth. And yet, I know it is not so.

I hear him singing to me at night, long chains of "I'm sorry" mixed with echoes of regret.

I know it is genuine, this apology. His sense of remorse.

And I forgive him.

But I cannot bring myself to go to him, to tell him what I already know but what he does not, cannot.

And I think this is because I do not forgive myself.

But for what?

For loving him, I think, I know, when I allow myself to see him. When I look with all my eyes.

"Can you see through the clouds?" he asked me once, stretching out beside me as I have seen cats do, curling into me, burrowing towards the warmth of my body.

"Yes," I said, then, reaching for him. "I can see right through them. As though they are not even there."

He turned his face towards me as if I were the sun, eyes closed, a long grin stretched over his mouth.

"Really?" he murmured, his voice sleepy and warm.

"Yes," I said. Brushed my fingers over his face. "Just like I'm looking at you now."

He tipped his head back and opened his eyes, clear and cut and smiling.

"Just like this, huh?"

My lips turned up to mirror his. "More or less," I said.

"Uh huh," he said, sliding his hand around the back of my neck. Pulling himself up, pulling me down, until we collided somewhere in between.

This is the space that we have lost. This place in between.

But what is there, between heaven and earth?

He would say, us. Just us.

And now, when what I know is coming to an end, I wonder: isn't that enough?

He would say, yes.

He will say: yes, Cas. Yes.

And I will say: Dean. I am sorry. I forgive you.

And he will say, I will say, we will mean: Yes.


End file.
